Not A Soldier
by Harkpad
Summary: For avengerkink prompt:"Bad guy of the week mind whammys Steve and for whatever reason he attacks Clint. Clint holds his own as best he can but Steve is superstrong and doesn't hold back. He beats the crap out of Clint. Obviously, someone comes in and manages to stop him. When Steve is back to himself, he is horrified by what he's done." Clint/Coulson
1. Chapter 1

**For this prompt at avengerkink:** "Bad guy of the week mind whammys Steve and for whatever reason he attacks Clint. Clint holds his own as best he can but Steve is superstrong and doesn't hold back. He beats the crap out of Clint. Obviously, someone (preferebly Thor but could be anyone) comes in and manages to stop him. When Steve is back to himself, he is horrified by what he's done." They also requested protective!Coulson and feels. I hope I've delivered. Part two coming shortly. Oh, and it may be considered a little OOC because I figure, quite frankly, that Cap could kill Clint with one or two blows. He doesn't here, for story purposes.

**Warnings**: Clint/Coulson pairing and violence. Self-worth issues as well. Also, could be tagged "angst," but ffnet only allows two tags and I thought the others more appropriate.

"Cap, duck!" he heard Hawkeye holler, so he did, without thinking. An explosion rang against the wall behind him and he whirled to see the archer take down the shooter with a laser gun of some sort thirty yards from Cap. He threw a salute to Hawkeye and jumped back into the fray. The cave they were fighting in was enormous, the weapons fire echoing off of the walls. Steve saw Thor use his hammer to take down three guys, and Steve tossed his shield into a group of enemy soldiers and watched it take out at least four before hurtling back into his hand.

They were trying to get to the passageway at the back of the cave; they had to hurry because whoever was leading this villainous faction had managed to use an EMP device outside and took down Tony and all of their comms, and they hauled Tony to the passageway before his teammates could get to him. Now Cap and the others were facing a horde of hired guns.

Steve wasn't worried. He looked up to see Hawkeye perched on an outcropping of rock, taking down guys two at a time with his arrows, his eyes focused on clearing the area around the passageway and picking off anyone who got too close to Steve, Thor, and Natasha. Steve waded through the soldiers, using his shield like a scythe and was quickly at the back of the cave. He turned to check that one of his teammates saw him, and Natasha was only a few yards away and gave him a quick thumbs up.

He stepped into the passageway, and suddenly he heard a high-pitched whine. Everything went red. His body felt leaden, and when he tried to speak nothing would come out. There was a light in the passageway, and a deep, echoing voice ominously proclaimed: "Stop the battle, supersoldier. Go, kill the Avengers."

Steve obeyed.

* * *

Clint hated working in enclosed spaces. Walls were on his top five least favorite things in the universe list, and just because Mother Nature made these particular walls, he wasn't changing his stance. He found this particular perch and had no clue where another one would be, and he didn't have time to go spelunking to find one. So he stood his ground, picking off whoever the fuck these guys were (he'd been listening when they were being briefed on the flight over, he really had, but he couldn't keep acronyms straight anymore without at least a day to study) and had his teammates' backs.

He watched as Cap entered the passageway, hoping that meant the fight would be over soon. A minute later, when Cap's shield slammed into the perch he was standing on and he went tumbling to the cave floor, he had a fleeting moment of 'what the fuck' before the team leader was slamming his fist into Clint's gut.

Pain shot through his stomach but he managed to throw up a block the next time Cap attacked him. What the hell was going on? He saw Natasha about fifty yards away but he didn't have time to see if she realized what was happening before Cap attacked again, and when Clint's ribs exploded his vision grayed out and nausea rolled through his stomach. He doubled over on himself to protect his torso, but Steve's elbow connected with the back of his shoulder and Clint blacked out for a moment and crumpled to the ground again.

Clint's vision came back just as Cap slammed his fist into his cheek, and he frantically threw a kick that sent waves of pain rippling through his body. It startled the soldier for a minute, though, and Clint threw up his bow just to defend himself. Cap was too strong. He pressed against Clint's bow and ripped it from his hands, and Clint saw fury, rage, and madness in Cap's eyes.

"You call yourself a fighter?" Cap spit out, his eyes dark and his face twisted in a nasty leer, as he grabbed for Clint's arm. "You're not even close to a soldier," he snarled. Clint felt Cap twist his arm, and when he felt it break, Clint knew Cap was going to kill him.

As the pain washed over him and engulfed him, Clint looked into Cap's eyes, letting the darkness take him as one more person he thought he could trust turned violently against him.

* * *

Phil Coulson hated EMPs. Tony had wanted to make Clint some EMP arrows and Phil put the kibosh on it right away because, well, he hated EMPs. They meant no communication with his agents, his team. They meant leaving his people alone until he could get to them on foot, which was usually incredibly impractical. In the hands of an enemy they meant a foe who didn't need much technology to take his people down, and that was very worrisome for Phil. So when the EMP went off outside the cave where The Avengers were trying to get at what was rumored to be one of Doom's top minions, a thin thread of fear rippled through Coulson's frame.

He called to his backup team right away, and they headed out on foot to find the Avengers and assess the situation firsthand. He knew the cave was big based on the initial report by the team, but he was still shocked by its size when they arrived after a one-mile hike. He could tell standing at the entrance that the team had taken down a very significant number of militants, but they were still fighting. Thor was taking on several at a time and Coulson spotted Black Widow methodically making her way to the back of the cave. Iron Man was nowhere to be seen, but it was the last thing Phil saw that sent a chill down his spine.

Captain America, his childhood hero, was _pummeling_ Hawkeye. Phil saw Clint throw a kick, trying to get Cap off of him, but whatever was making the super soldier attack a teammate and close friend was relentless, and Clint didn't stand a chance. The comms still didn't work, so Phil did the first thing he could think of since he didn't have a clear shot at Rogers: he called for Thor.

"Thor!" he yelled, shooting militant soldiers who now saw there was another team of SHIELD agents to deal with, "Help Hawkeye! Something's wrong with the Captain!" and the words tasted brittle and dusty on his lips. He saw Thor look at him in confusion and then look at Hawkeye, who was trying to hold his bow up to defend himself. "Stop him, Thor!" Phil called, pouring every ounce of authority into his voice.

He watched as Thor turned from the soldiers he was fighting and launched himself at the captain. Just as Cap wrenched Clint's arm and landed another punch into the side of his chest, Thor was on him, dragging him down to the ground. Cap fought, but Thor shoved him back and did the only thing that could possibly work: he pressed his hammer to the captain's chest and let go, letting the weight of it hold the man down in a way that nothing of this earth could have possibly done. Cap struggled, but couldn't move, and Phil knew Clint was at least safe now.

Just then, the lights in the cave came back on, the comms crackled to life, and Iron Man soared out of the passageway carrying the limp body of the faction's leader. When the man's soldiers saw the body, they halted, uncertain. The fight was over.

Phil and his team disarmed the soldiers and called for the SHEILD transport to come. Phil called for a medic as well, and then rushed over to Clint, ignoring the startled cry from Cap nearby.

Clint was a crumpled heap on the ground, not moving. Natasha slipped up next to Phil and helped turn Clint onto his back so they could see the damage. Phil heard her draw a sharp breath and look over at Cap, who was still struggling under Thor's hammer, but Phil couldn't look away.

Clint's face was a mess, swollen and bloody, and one eye was going to be useless for a few days at least. His arm was clearly broken, lying at an odd angle next to him – it was his drawing arm, too. His breath was coming in shallow gasps; clearly, Steve had broken at least one of his ribs. Phil tore his own jacket off and wrapped it around Clint's cold, clammy body as best he could, gripping his arms, running his own hands down Clint's face and sides, even though he knew it was a useless way to keep him warm at this point. He just wanted to feel Clint's breathing body beneath his hands, wanted to will away the pain.

He scooted around and cradled Clint's head in his lap, brushing his hands through the archer's dusty hair, and finally looked over at his hero.

Steve was white as a sheet and talking to Natasha, who still hadn't let Thor take his hammer, and he was writhing as if in pain. "I don't know!" he cried, "I just went into the cave and something happened. Everything—everything went red and all I knew to do was to try and kill Clint. I'm sorry!"

Phil couldn't even feel anything for Steve, only seeing the powerful hands that had beaten Clint into unconsciousness when he looked at him.

Phil looked over to where Tony had flipped his faceplate back and was helping another agent cuff and restrain the leader and other soldiers. "Tony, you and Natasha need to investigate that passageway and his command center. How did he do all of this? We need to know."

Tony nodded and looked at Clint, coming over and kneeling down. "He'll be okay, Agent," he said firmly, "He's an asshole and they always pull through."

Phil quietly repeated, "Go find out how they did this."

Tony stood and he and Natasha headed down the passageway just as the medics arrived on the scene.

Phil watched, keeping his face as stony as possible as the medics slipped Clint carefully onto a stretcher, and he debated with himself over whether to go with Clint or stay at the scene. With a sigh, he knew he had to stay and wrap this mess up. "Thor!" he called and the god came to him, concern filling his eyes. "Take your hammer and please stay with Clint. I have to stay here..."

"I will guard our shield-brother while the healers work," Thor promised earnestly, and lifted his hammer from Steve's chest and then followed the medics to the nearby transport.

Steve stayed down on the ground, sitting up on his elbows warily and looking at Phil. "I didn't –"

Phil cut him off with a curt, "I know. Report back to base for medical examination, now." And then he turned on his heel and walked away, unable to look at Cap any more.

The next two hours passed in a blur for Phil. They gathered the remaining militants and got them onto a custody transport back to base. He joined the others in the makeshift control room and Tony determined that everything led back to a computer he found, and he and Natasha worked to disassemble it enough to take back to headquarters. Finally, Phil was able to leave the scene and he got back to base. He figured no news was good news so far.

Phil found Thor pacing the waiting area of medical. "Thor, what's the status?" He asked, working very hard to control his voice.

Thor stopped pacing and said, "Hawkeye is recovering, Son of Coul, but they will not let me sit with him. They only let me guard from here. I am sorry."

Phil looked around for a nurse to grab, saying "It's all right, Thor. Thank you for staying close."

The nurse didn't know much, but about fifteen minutes after Phil arrived, the doctor came out to talk to him.

"He's going to be all right, Agent. He does have three broken ribs and a broken arm, as well as deep bruising on his cheekbone and left shoulder blade. He's going to be in a lot of pain, but he should make a full recovery."

"Can I sit with him?" Phil asked, quietly. The doctor nodded, and after Phil sent Thor to report to Natasha and the others, he made his way back to Clint's room. He waited, watching the steady rise and fall of Clint's chest, closing his eyes against the memory of Captain America slamming his fist into Clint's face. Natasha joined him after an hour or so, bringing him coffee and a bagel and insisting that he eat.

"Tony's sending you the report on the leader's method – his name was Stanson – and he thinks he figured it out. There's no way there are any long-term effects on Cap," she said gently. "It had to do with sound waves and the passageway he had filled with a strange concoction of gasses. Tony and the med team are certain Cap is clear." She paused and looked at Clint for a moment and then said, "He's also sure it can't be replicated. He's destroying the formula and he and Bruce agree that it was completely dependent on that guy's voice – a sort of chemically enhanced hypnosis."

Phil nodded and sat back, watching Clint sleep.

"Cap wants to come see him," Natasha said quietly.

"No," Phil snapped, and then he took a deep breath. "I don't know how he'll respond to Steve if he wakes," he added, more calmly.

"Phil, I'm sure he'll understa—"

"No. Just. Not yet."

She nodded and curled herself into a nearby chair, settling in to wait with Phil.

* * *

The dull throb in his shoulder blade was only outdone by the dull throb in his face, and they both trumped the faint throb in his arm. The pain with each breath trumped it all, though. He heard voices through the throbbing, felt an IV in his arm, and realized that he had ended up in medical after a mission again.

Goddamn it.

Then the mission came back to him and the throbbing and annoyance fizzled away in the place of a chilling vision of Cap toppling him to the ground, of him taking out Clint's perch with his shield.

He clenched his eyes tighter against the memory, and he heard Phil's voice quietly commanding him to wake.

"Clint, can you look at us? Come on, wake up," Phil said, and Clint felt Phil's hand on his arm, steady, firm, grounding.

He opened his – eye. He couldn't even force his left eye open and the throbbing in his cheek rose again as he squinted at Phil and Natasha standing at his side.

"Hey," Natasha said with a smile, "You look lopsided."

"Feels that way," he rasped in reply, and she raised his bed for him while Phil grabbed the nearby cup of water and offered him the straw. It hurt every time he swallowed, but it was worth it for the cool liquid. He leaned back against the pillow with a sigh, and saw the worried look on Phil's face. He looked down at his arm, saw the cast, and swore.

"I fucking broke my drawing arm, didn't I?" he asked, looking back up at Phil, who nodded.

"That and a couple of ribs," Phil added.

"And my face, apparently," Clint said. He couldn't smile at Phil, but seeing the look on his face he wanted to, to reassure him. Phil was looking at him like he might break, which was entirely unlike Phil. They'd been in this position enough over the years that Phil knew Clint would bounce back, probably entirely too quickly. "What's wrong?" he asked, "You breakin' up with me 'cause my good looks might be messed up from this one?"

Phil was caught off guard and he laughed. "I'm not with you only because of your looks, Barton."

"'Only', he said, Nat," Clint countered, looking over at Natasha. She rolled her eyes. "Told you some people thought I was hot," he said smugly, ignoring the pain to get to what was wrong with Phil. "So _are_ you leaving me?" Clint said. "You look like you might be leaving me."

Phil answered by leaning over and kissing Clint languidly on the lips. When he leaned back, Natasha was grinning.

"I have to admit, Barton," she said, "I like the way your boyfriend answers questions."

"I have good taste," Clint said, glad at least that the moment was lighter. Glad, too, that he got a kiss out of it. He kind of thought he might need it, to shore up against what was coming.

"Cap beat the crap out of you, Clint," Phil said, steering the conversation back on track. "I'm just worried about how you're going to take it."

Clint wasn't ready to think about Cap when all he really wanted to do was sleep. Still, he muttered, "I'm not going to be in fighting form again for a few days at least, so he'll have to wait for me to kick his ass until then."

Phil sighed and Clint grew serious. "He's okay, though? He's back to himself?" Clint wasn't up for dealing with what Cap had done to him, but he didn't mean it about kicking Cap's ass. He knew too well what it was like to be used by a bad guy.

Phil nodded. "He's okay. It wasn't anything permanent."

"Good," Clint said, and then closed his eyes. He really was tired. "Tony? Is Tony okay, too?"

Natasha answered, "Yes, everyone's okay."

"Except you," Phil said quietly.

Clint looked at him and knew something was different about this injury for Phil. He was too tired to figure it out, though, so he stuck with reassurances. "I'll be okay, Phil. I'm just gonna sleep a little." And he closed his eyes, unable to stay awake any longer.

When he woke next, it was Bruce who was with him, messing around on a tablet. They talked quietly for a few minutes, and then Clint slept again. The next few days passed in a similar fashion, the only noticeable thing being Steve's absence from the rotation of visitors at Clint's bedside. Usually he would have at least taken one shift, probably more since he and Clint got along so well. Clint didn't ask about him, though, except to see if the others thought he was still okay after the incident in the cave.

"He wanted to come see you," Natasha said as he was waiting to get released by medical, finally. "Phil wouldn't let him."

Clint looked up sharply at her. "He wouldn't let him?"

She shook her head. "No. He said he didn't know how you'd react. So Steve stayed away."

"Huh," Clint said, unsure of Coulson's move. It was highly protective, but that wasn't really like Phil. "How's Phil doing around Cap?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Maybe a little quiet? Not sure."

Clint nodded and then got distracted by being discharged. His shoulder still flared with pain every time he moved it – the doctors told him it was actually a bone bruise, which would probably linger. His face was better, albeit turning all sorts of nasty colors, and his eye was still mostly shut, but they assured him it should heal up just fine. Sometimes it hurt after he'd been awake for a while, but between his shoulder and his sore ribs, it was down the list of annoyances.

Phil came in with paperwork for Clint to sign and a bag full of painkillers to take with him, and finally helped him out to the car to go back to their apartment at Avengers Tower. He was glad to be going home.

When they got there, he settled himself down on their plush green couch with a satisfied groan.

"So. Much. Better than medical," he said, and then Phil appeared with a glass of water and a couple of pills.

"Here, I'll keep track of your pill schedule for a few days, okay?" he said as Clint swallowed them down and nodded.

"Can I just sleep here awhile?" Clint asked, throwing his feet up on the coffee table.

"Of course," Phil replied, settling into his nearby chair with a tablet. "I'll wake you for dinner."

Clint nodded, and then swung his feet from the table and onto the couch. Phil sighed, stood, and came over and took Clint's shoes and then threw the wool hawk-emblazoned blanket over him. Clint sighed, knowing sleep would come easily. Phil leaned over and kissed him, and Clint savored Phil's lips on his own, reaching up and running his hand through Phil's hair. They pulled apart and Phil was smiling.

"Sleep, Clint."

"'m'kay," he mumbled, but then he opened his eyes again, not wanting to forget this, and said, "Hey, Nat said you were keeping Steve away from me. That true?"

Phil sat back down and ran a hand down his face in exasperation. "I guess. I wasn't sure how you'd react to him right now. I didn't want to upset you."

"Yeah, okay," Clint said, but he saw a flash of grief in Phil's eyes and he tucked that thought away. "I think I'll be okay, though."

"Yeah? Okay. If he asks again I'll have him come by," Phil replied. "Now sleep, please?"

Clint lay back on the couch, pulling the blanket back up. "Yes, sir," he said, and was asleep in less than a minute.

The nightmare surprised him. He hadn't had any in the hospital, but that might be because it was a higher dose of painkiller there, and maybe it was because Phil said he'd let Steve come by, but Clint woke with a gasp, clawing at his own throat, trying to get Steve's hands off of him. A strangled, "No!" escaped his lips and he felt himself murmuring, "I can be useful. I can," and Phil was right there, putting his arms around him, being careful of his ribs but holding him close, running his hand through his hair.

"Shhh," Phil said quietly. "You're home and you're safe."

Clint sucked a painful breath in frantically and then blew it out through his mouth, clenched his good eye shut, and tried to get the sight of Steve's maniacal eyes out of his head.

"Clint?" Phil asked tentatively after they sat there for a minute. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am," and he was calming down. The dream had been vivid, but it was dissolving from the edge of his vision and the walls of their apartment were solidifying.

"Want some tea?" Phil asked, and Clint nodded. That would definitely help.

Clint drank his tea and then tried to take a shower. The arm cast was the only thing to be careful of and he stood under the hot spray for longer than necessary, washing the few days in medical off and trying to wash away the vestiges of his dream. Steve was okay. He hadn't meant to hurt Clint. He probably didn't mean anything he'd said, either . . . probably.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who left a review and followed this little fic! I forgot to mention the huge amount of thanks I have for dysprositos, who is continuing to be the best beta reader ever. Huge thanks. Here's the last part. I hope you like it!**

Steve understood where Phil was coming from, he really did. He didn't complain when Phil asked him politely to wait until Clint asked to see him, and he got that Clint not asking for him in the hospital while he was still in a lot of pain probably didn't mean anything bad. So he waited. He got reports from Natasha and Bruce, who both said that Clint looked pretty awful from his face injury, but that he was in pretty good spirits considering his team leader had tried to kill him.

Steve hadn't _wanted_ to kill him, though. He just _had_ to. When the voice spoke it was all he could do, and he had to obey. When he had come back to himself under Thor's hammer he had a vague visual memory of hitting Clint and really trying to beat him senseless, but he couldn't remember specifics. He wasn't sure what Clint would remember.

Still, Steve wanted to see him. The day he knew Clint was coming home from medical he hoped that he would get a chance, and he even resorted to baking his mother's snicker doodle cookie cookies that he knew Clint loved. He baked in his own apartment instead of in the common kitchen, knowing that if he did it out there Tony would smell the cookies ten floors away and come to try to steal as many as he could, and when he was done, he placed the cookies in a tin and set them on his countertop.

As evening rolled around, he texted Coulson, asking if Clint was up for company yet. He knew he was being a bit of a pest, but he was tired of waiting. He wanted to see how his teammate was doing, and he needed to apologize. After a few minutes, Coulson texted him back, inviting him over after dinner.

Steve took the cookies and headed to Clint and Coulson's apartment around seven. He knocked on the door and Coulson opened it, smiling when he saw the tin.

"Did you bake?" he asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

Steve grinned and nodded, "Yes. Clint's favorite."

"Did he bring snicker doodles?" he heard Clint holler from the living room, and Phil just rolled his eyes and gestured Steve into the apartment.

"I figured it was the least I could-" he started to say, but the words died on his lips as he entered the room and saw Clint sitting on the couch, his face covered in purple and yellow bruising and his eye still half shut from swelling. His arm was in a sling and he clearly winced as he turned to see Steve.

Phil quietly slid his hands up and pulled the tin from Steve's hands and set in front of Clint. He sat down next to Clint and offered Steve the nearby chair.

Steve sat down and watched as Clint leaned into Coulson's shoulder.

"Phil, can you give us a minute?" Clint said after a few moments of awkward silence, straightening with a wince.

Phil looked at Steve and then back to Clint without responding. Steve could feel the wariness from Phil.

"Phil," Clint insisted. "It'll be fine. It's just Steve. I'll call you if I need anything."

Phil sighed and then stood. He looked at Steve and shrugged. "I don't mean to be rude."

Steve understood. "It's okay. Really." He watched as Phil ruffled Clint's hair and left the room.

"Thanks for the cookies," Clint said.

"Least I could do," Steve repeated, leaning forward in his chair and putting his elbows on his knees. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Clint gave him a small smile. "I think I look worse than I feel," and then he paused and added, "Except my shoulder. You really did a number there. They say it's not busted, though."

Steve nodded. "I'm sorry, Clint. I- I don't even know what to say." And it was true. He'd been trying to rehearse an apology for days and this moment was as far as he ever got. Clint was one of his best friends in this crazy new world, but at the core of it, Steve was a soldier and had violated the trust of a teammate. That fact was eating him alive. He needed to know that Clint was okay.

Clint shrugged his good shoulder. "It's okay, Cap. Really. I know what it's like to lose control like that. Tony explained what happened. You couldn't have stopped it, sounds like."

And Clint sounded sincere. He really did, and Steve wanted to accept his forgiveness, but something was off. He couldn't hear it, but he could see it in Clint's face and feel it in the air. There was forgiveness, but there was something missing.

"I don't – I don't really remember much," Steve offered. "Just a sort of red haze and then…rage. Next thing I knew Thor's hammer was on my chest. I'm so sorry."

Clint leaned back and nodded, "Okay. Look, try not to worry about it too much, Steve. It was over quick and I'm gonna be fine. A couple months enforced vacation. I'm trying to convince Coulson to go to Hawaii with me, but don't tell him that. I need to make it seem like his idea or he'll never go." He grinned and then pointed to where Coulson had retreated and winked at Steve.

"I heard that!" Phil called from the den and Steve laughed as Clint nodded in satisfaction.

"I hope it works. I hear Hawaii's nice," Steve said, and then Clint ate a cookie and called Phil back in. The men chatted for a while until Phil and Steve saw Clint starting to flag again. Steve said goodnight and that was that. Apology done and friend's well-being accounted for. Things might go back to normal now.

Or not.

Clint was up and around the next day, and they all had dinner together and watched a movie that night. He didn't say three words to Steve, though, and it seemed like he might actually be avoiding him. Steve wrote it off to tiredness, though, and he knew Clint was still really sore from the whole thing. When it kept happening, though, he began to wonder.

Clint wouldn't stay if he was alone with Steve, finding any excuse to head back to his apartment. When he did it during a Red Sox game on the big screen a few days later, Steve knew something was wrong. Clint loved watching baseball on the common room TV, and he had parked himself with a blanket and another guilty pleasure of his, a huge bowl of pistachios and a spare bowl for the shells. Cleaning that up and leaving in the middle of the third inning five minutes after Steve walked in seemed fairly obvious.

Steve gave it another week just to be sure.

After an Avengers mission everything came clear.

* * *

Phil was watching Clint's recovery carefully. He knew Clint was downplaying the pain as usual, but there was also a lot more pain to downplay this time; Phil remembered with clarity a bone bruise he'd gotten on his shin once, and that had been fifteen years ago. So he made sure that meds were taken regularly, not leaving Clint to his own neglectful devices. He tried hard not to work more than four or five hours at SHIELD a day, Fury allowing him a few more teleconferenced meetings than usual under the circumstances. Also, he put Bruce and Natasha on food duty each time he had to leave for SHIELD, making Bruce promise to cook some sort of vegetarian dish that Clint liked each day. He was covering all the bases.

He also watched carefully when Clint mentioned Steve or when Steve was around. He realized after a few days that Clint was avoiding Steve. He was avoiding Steve, too, so it wasn't hard to spot.

It took him noticing Clint to realize why he was avoiding Steve. The three of them usually got along very well, Phil and Steve sharing history and military strategy and Clint and Steve sharing bikes and baseball. But when they brought Clint back to the tower from medical and Steve brought him cookies, there was something that just refused to sit right with Phil when he looked at Steve. He tried to hide it, but he knew Clint could tell.

Then the Avengers got called out. Clint was clearly off duty, but Phil was in their apartment when the call from Fury came through. He apologized to Clint, gave him a quick kiss, and then left with the others. Everyone performed admirably, even without their eyes in the sky. But it was harder, less smooth, and everyone felt Clint's absence.

When they finally got back to the Tower, a tiring nine hours later, Clint was nowhere to be found. Phil allowed himself a shower after he realized Clint wasn't in their apartment, and then he went looking. His texts went unanswered and when he got to the common room, Steve was there looking, too.

"Hey, Phil," he said. "Is Clint at your place? I wanted to talk to him."

Phil sighed. "No, I was hoping he was here. He's not answering his phone."

Steve's eyes darkened in worry and the two men said at the same time, "The roof?" Phil smiled and nodded, and they headed for the roof together.

He wasn't there.

After that, they checked the only other place he went regularly, even though he shouldn't have been there. He was, though, sitting in the shooting range cleaning his bow one-handed.

"Clint," Phil called as they entered the range. "Why are you trying to clean your bow at one in the morning?" There was no answer. Phil looked at Steve and they both sat down on opposite sides of the archer. "Clint," Phil repeated.

Clint looked up at him with hollow eyes; he hadn't slept since the team had left, which these days was unusual. Clint wasn't really up for full days awake yet. But here he was, looking wiped out.

"Clint, what's wrong?" Steve asked.

Clint looked over at the captain and smiled. "Did you figure it out today, Cap?" he asked cryptically.

Phil cocked his head as Steve answered, "Figure what out, Clint?"

Clint shoved his chair back from the table he was working at and shoved his good hand into his pants pocket as he stood. He ducked his head and said, "First mission since I was knocked out. You guys don't really need me."

Phil was stunned. He thought they'd gotten past this hurdle months and months ago. Cap looked just as startled.

"Clint, I was coming to find you to tell you that we missed you and would probably have been home about three hours earlier if you'd been around for the fight. What are you talking about we don't need you?" Steve said, incredulous.

Clint sighed and looked at the captain, but he didn't answer. Just then Phil remembered something that had been a constant over the last week at the Tower and he ran his hand over his face and sighed. Steve looked over at him. "Your nightmare, right?" Phil asked, gently.

Clint looked over at him, startled. "What?"

"Every time you have a nightmare you wake up saying something along the lines of "I can be useful. I can be a soldier" or some variation. Clint, the team needs you. Where did this come from?"

Clint looked at Steve hesitantly and Steve's eyes grew wide.

"It was when I hurt you, wasn't it?" Steve asked, his voice thick. "I said something, didn't I?"

Clint nodded and closed his eyes.

"What did I say?"

"You said I wasn't a fighter. You said I wasn't a soldier."

"Clint," Phil started, but Clint interrupted.

"No, Phil," he said vehemently. "He might have been under some spell, but he was clear. He meant it. I figure he'd been thinking it but was too nice a guy to actually say it until then." And Clint stepped back to the table and started putting his bow away.

Phil watched as Steve put his hand on Clint's shoulder and kept it there despite the little jump it caused.

"You're not a soldier, Clint."

Phil saw Clint flinch at the words, so he narrowed his eyes and stepped to the table, putting himself between Clint and his childhood hero. "Captain," he said, threatening without words what might happen if Steve hurt Clint again.

Steve stepped back, looking between Phil and Clint. He repeated, "No. You're not a soldier, Clint. And you're not a fighter in a soldier sense, which is where my brain was that day. All I was that day was a soldier. That's what the voice wanted me to be, so that's what I was. And I must have said it like it was a bad thing, Clint, but it's not. That wasn't me saying it like that."

Clint leaned around Phil. "What do you mean?" he said as Phil stepped to the side.

Steve sank into a chair. "Clint, I don't _want_ you to be a soldier, and you're not. You're a strategist, a scrapper, a snarky bullshit caller who I can hardly do without. Do you know why it took us three hours longer today? It was because you didn't remind me of some bad strategy that I couldn't see because I was in the thick of things. Because you weren't there to take out two guys at a time. Yeah, we had a backup sniper but man, he wasn't worth a damn, Clint. I don't want you to be a soldier. I want you to be _Hawkeye_. That's who I need. That wasn't the leader of the Avengers or your friend talking that day in the cave, Clint. That was a maniacal super soldier. That's not me."

Phil saw realization dawn in Clint's eyes and Clint sank down in another chair and put his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Clint," Steve said. "I didn't mean to hurt you and I didn't mean to cause you doubt. You don't deserve that."

Phil looked at Clint and then at Steve and something unlocked in his own chest. He didn't realize he'd gone quiet until Clint stood and put a hand on his own.

"Phil? What's wrong?" Clint asked, insistent.

Phil looked over at Steve. "He didn't trust you and so I didn't trust you, you understand that, right?" he said. "I walked into that cave and saw you beating him to a pulp and then he was wary of you since. He tried to hide it, but I saw it and reacted instinctually."

And that's what it was. His childhood hero had beaten the person he loved most and even when forgiveness was offered, it wasn't fully accepted. He marveled at himself and at the connection he had with Clint that allowed his own unconscious protection to slip into place.

Steve nodded. "I figured it did a number on your head seeing me hit him like that. It's okay."

Clint sighed. "We're good now?" he asked both men.

They nodded.

"Yeah," Steve said, standing again and shaking Clint's good hand. "We're cool."

Clint grinned and looked over at Phil. "Didja hear that, Coulson? He said 'cool.'"

Phil rolled his eyes and gathered some of the cleaning supplies back into the kit on the table.

"What?" Steve asked earnestly, and Phil felt his ears go hot.

Clint nudged him in the ribs and looked at Steve. "Phil likes it when you use – what did you call it, Phil? 'Modern vernacular.' He thinks it's endearing." He paused and added, "I just think it's hot."

And Phil chuckled as he saw his hero blush.

"It's not that far out of my time period," he heard Steve mumble as they went back upstairs to turn in for the night.

"Just far enough to still be hot, Cap," Clint said, and Phil slapped him lightly on the back of the head.

"Sleep now, Barton. Flirt later," Phil said.

"And not with me," Steve added.

Clint just shrugged and said goodnight to Steve, and they all gathered the next afternoon to watch the Red Sox on the big TV.

Clint flirted anyway.


End file.
